Libera Me
by Bizzy
Summary: Why do you suppose people die? Manga spoilers, Roy and Riza PAST not PLOT. Rated on lower side; themes of death discussed


_**Libera Me**_

_Release me; free me_

* * *

Riza Hawkeye was just a child; fifteen years old at best, he realized. His teacher's daughter had settled herself in front of the fireplace. Pleasantries had been exchanged. Tea had been served along with some slightly stale bread, which was all she had to offer him. Intricate alchemical information had been shared by the light of a flickering fire, her nude back glistening slightly in the soft light. Nothing about the hours after her father's funeral had been natural, and he knew the discomfort would shadow him long after he left the old Hawkeye house.

Roy Mustang had suggested she change into her nightgown in preparation for bed. She had suggested he do the same, as he was planning to stay the night once again. Her eyes were bloodshot, though he hadn't seen much by way of tears during the day, and her shoulders seemed permanently slouched under the burdens of the household. As they sat comfortably by the fire, she broke the otherwise companionable silence.

"Why do you suppose people die?"

It was asked with the innocent air of a child who was trying so hard to understand. Roy had never met her mother, and as there were photographs of the tall, thin Ishbalan woman all over the household, he had always presumed the woman had passed away when Riza was still small. The gravesite only confirmed his beliefs: beside where her father had been buried was a gravestone bearing her mother's name and memory.

He considered his answer to her question very carefully, wondering if he truly had anything by means of an answer. He certainly understood the physiology, the medicine of a person dying. Roy knew that in some cases injuries and illness stole life from people, and such instances were not discriminatory to age. He knew in other cases that sometimes a person's body just grew too old to sustain life. None of these understandings of death, however, explained _why_—not in the way she was asking him.

"I don't know," he replied softly, hesitant in his conclusion. He knew that wasn't the answer she was looking for.

"My mother believed in the God of Ishbal, Ishbala. And for a long time I did, I think. I had faith because she did, because she had promised me that Ishbala would always protect us and our family."

Roy also did not know if he believed in a god, or gods, or some higher power that really did find solace in caring for the needs of menial humans as they ran about the country, trying to keep things straight and go through their daily routines. "But Ishbala didn't."

It hadn't been a question, she realized. His response had been a statement. She looked up from her feet, stray golden hairs in her face. Her eyes were red, but dry. "No. Ishbala did not."

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Roy had never had great faith in any sort of higher power. His parents hadn't felt it necessary to instill it in him, and as his teacher saw no need for such frivolity and preached the power of science, he had barely been exposed to religion. Looking at the orphaned, miserable little girl in front of him, he hardly felt he could believe in one. What sort of god would abandon his or her people to live a life like _this_? What sort of god would allow a human they were supposed to protect be used as research notes by their father? Certainly, Ishbala—if Ishbala _did_ exist—was not doing a stellar job in the Hawkeye household.

"My mother always said that there was a reason for everything to happen. I can't find reason here. I don't see it." Riza turned her head away from him, and he could have sworn he saw her amber eyes filling with tears. He hated to see her cry, though he had yet to really see any display of tears until that moment. Her statement and movements spoke volumes above what she really was asking him, what she was really trying to say and hoping he might be able to explain: _I don't understand_.

"Maybe sometimes we can't see it," he replied softly, inching closer towards her on the small couch. "Maybe it's part of a bigger picture that we can't put together just yet." Roy knew that he did not believe in a god, especially not right now, but he did believe in that things fell into place, that things had some sort of reason and basis in strict reality, even if he couldn't understand it. It had come from the tomes he poured over on chemistry—just because one couldn't see the full picture to understand did not make that small piece irrelevant.

He leaned out and poured a fresh cup of tea for her. When all was said and done, he didn't know what to do. She was a child, fifteen at best, and she didn't know what to do, and neither did he. She was scared, no matter how much she struggled to keep it hidden. As events had transpired, she clearly seemed unsure as to where to turn now. She was estranged from her family as far as she was aware, and it had only been a few villagers, herself and Roy at the funeral. Nobody had come to the house for a meal of repose, or to offer their condolences. It was as if the death of Hawkeye-sensei had been the death of a household, and that now Riza was an irrelevant orphan who had been left in the aftermath.

She was sniffling quietly, and didn't move to take her tea though he was holding it out for her. Again, he slid a bit closer to her on the couch, his hand finding a way to gently touch her head, stroking the hair tentatively. His mother had done so for him when he was a child and upset, and he figured that it might help her. She was unsure about the intimacy, but soon relaxed as he smoothed the soft yellow hairs on the top of her head.

Abruptly, she remembered why he was here, why Roy had come back, and why he was currently staying in her house. The situation struck her so hard it seemed to crush against her chest, sucking the air out of her as she inched closer to him, burrowing her head into his shoulder as he hesitantly moved to embrace her.

"I just don't under_stand_…"

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own.

I'm sorry I haven't written in such a long time--and to return with something that is relatively sub-par. Some people who read my stuff know what happened recently...a close friend of mine passed away on April 17, 2008, from complications of a very severe case of pneumonia. It wasn't until even recently I could consider returning to Royai at all, and I sort of stayed away from writing in general. Part of it was too hard, becuase she introduced me to both fandom and really writing fanfiction. Part of it was becuase I have been working on a creative 'death' and 'funeral' for all of the stories and role-plays I have had with her in the past, so that I could, in my mind, put a creative end to all of the stuff we had worked on together.

Tonight, I found myself sitting in bed, thinking...why do people die? Why really? I understand the medicine. I understand, from the intellectual standpoint, as to why people can and do die. But it's more than that, too.

I want to dedicate this to my friend, who was taken from us far too soon by an illness that should never have gotten so bad.

In loving memory of Julie Louise L.

July 15, 1985 to April 17, 2008

You will forever be missed


End file.
